


A Million Dreams

by P3ac3fulFor3st



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: 5 shot plus a bonus epilogue, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Chase is a barista, Jack and Chase are both little art geeks, Jack is a university student, Lime, M/M, They live in Melbourne, Wrote this while vacationing there, coffee shop AU, heavily implied abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P3ac3fulFor3st/pseuds/P3ac3fulFor3st
Summary: Chase is a 25 year old barista in Melbourne, Australia. And for some reason, he can't help but steal glances at the goth robotics student that comes in twice a week.





	1. The Barista and The Goth

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! I wrote this entire story while on vacation in Melbourne, Australia. This city has a special place in my heart since I lived there as a teenager and I felt the need to craft this little story for you. I named this fic after the song A Million Dreams from The Greatest Showman. As you read it, I think you'll find that it fits the lyrics nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I close my eyes and I can see  
> The world that's waiting up for me  
> That I call my own..."

Melbourne glistened as the morning sunlight hit the skyscrapers. There was a chill in the air, the promise of a crisp autumn and a rainy, dreary winter. Chase could hardly believe it was cool enough for a jacket and he pushed down the sleeves of his hoodie as he walked to work. The little bell rang as he pushed open the coffee shop door and his coworker turned away from the register, lime green contacts sizing him up.

“Well, look who finally decided to come in,” Wuya said with a smirk, tossing her wavy red hair over her shoulder. “Chase Young, fashionably late as always.”

Chase rolled his eyes; he was right on time, five minutes on the dot before his shift, as he always was.

“Good morning, Wuya.” He grumbled, stepping behind the counter. He made an espresso, downing it like a shot of vodka with a grimace.

“If you hate the taste, why bother?” Wuya sniffed.

“Because, unlike you, I start every morning at the gym at 5. I don’t have an endless surplus of energy, especially when I have to share an hour of my shift with you. Therefore, coffee.”

“Why are you such an asshole?” 

“25 years of practice.”

Wuya snorted, turning to ring up a customer. Chase left for the break room to clock in. He unlocked his locker, hanging up his gym duffle bag and pulling out a tan and brown apron with the coffee shop’s logo on it. It went well over his tan pants and denim button-down but he didn’t feel like himself in them, like he was wearing an elaborate disguise. Unfortunately his preferred profession didn’t make much and he had to pay the bills somehow. 

He rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, partially showing his tattoo. It was a tribute to his Chinese heritage he’d gotten done on his 18th birthday, a dragon that wound up his left arm all the way to his shoulder. The golds, greens, and reds all intricately patterned with black line-work on his skin was something he was proud of; it was quite large for a first tattoo. His father had been pissed. But since Chase was legally an adult, he technically couldn’t say shit. 

Tying up his long black hair, he walked out of the break room. Another thing he’d fought his father over was the undercut at the nape of his neck. It was hidden when his hair was down but was on full display whenever he pulled it up. Which was often; the Australian sun was too brutal for long hair. 

Chase didn’t have a good relationship with his father. Well, step-father. Hannibal Roy Bean couldn’t control him. Hence why he’d been cut off as a young adult. Chase didn’t care one iota; he’d rather be living on his own, broke as hell, than live with that tyrant of a man. 

Not a man. A monster.

The coffee shop was a decent enough size with an exposed brick wall and planters hanging from the ceiling. The black geometric chairs and wood tables made for a soothing atmosphere, especially with the natural lighting spilling in from the front windows. The name was The Haven and for many of the clients, Chase figured it was just that. They didn’t play music and kept the TV behind the counter mute with captions, keeping the noise pollution to an all-time low and allowing for conversation to flow freely. As much as he hated the uniform, Chase had to admit that he could have far worse jobs.

He was handing a caramel latte (half sugar, made with almond milk) to a regular customer when the bell chimed. Chase half-turned to see who came in (as he usually did)… And did a double-take.

A very strange person had just stepped into The Haven. He was dressed head to toe in black. Black hoodies, black skinny jeans, black combat boots. His skin was white and that was no exaggeration. Chase had never seen anyone in Melbourne that pale before, he had to be a straight-up ghost. His hair was bright red, like fire. 

The person approached Wuya to give his order. Large mocha frappuccino. Chase set about making it, blending the ice and coffee beans with cocoa powder and milk, adding whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle. 

“Large mocha frappuccino for Jack?” Chase called out, pausing momentarily to check the name on the cup. The person came up to the counter, taking the drink with white fingers poking out of black fingerless gloves. His eyes flickered up to Chase’s momentarily and Chase blinked in shock; they were crimson, red as freshly drawn blood.

“Thanks…” He (Jack?) muttered. He took his frappuccino to the table in the corner farthest from the window, dropping his backpack on the floor. It fell with a heavy thud and Chase was curious of it’s contents. Luckily for him, he found out as Jack procured a very large textbook with a spiral notebook from it.

Now Chase was a man of routine. He went to the gym five mornings out of the week, worked the 8 AM to noon shifts at The Haven every day, napped from 12:30 to 2, did grocery shopping on Sundays, and went out in the evenings. He liked routine and routine suited him. 

Jack Thomas Spicer, as Chase would soon learn was his full name, was not something he’d expected. Not in a million years, not in a million dreams. 

-oOo-

Before Chase could quite wrap his mind around Jack, the kid had become a regular at The Haven. Every Tuesday and Thursday morning at 10, Jack came in, almost always in an all black ensemble, ordered something with chocolate in it, and sat at the corner table. Then he pulled out an impossibly heavy textbook and took notes in a spiral notebook while chewing on his nails. Nervous habit, Chase supposed, as his eyes always creased with stress at the corners the he did so. 

Jack never had friends with him; he always seemed to be alone. After about a month, Wuya started interacting with him, obviously forming a soft spot, asking him how he was, how school was going, etc… Chase was secretly grateful for this. He was learning things via an ancient tactic: eavesdropping. 

“I’m working towards my Bachelors in Robotics.”

“Oh, this?” (In reference to a nasty bruise on his forearm.) “Skateboarding incident. It’s fine, doesn’t really hurt.”

“Yeah, I’m American. Dad’s job moved us here when I was 16.”

Chase paused while foaming up milk for a latte. He was an American? He sounded almost Aussie. But now that he thought about it, there was a certain lilt to Jack’s voice that didn’t sound quite local. It would make sense for his accent to change slightly later living in a different country for however many years.

“That’s interesting,” Wuya commented, wiping down the table beside Jack’s. “Any reason why you didn’t move back to the States after graduating Senior School?”

Jack shrugged, stirring his half-empty iced mocha absentmindedly. 

“I guess I kinda like it here.”

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one.”

Chase hadn’t meant to speak up but he had. Jack’s eyes flickered over to him, wide with surprise.

“Holy shit, so you do talk?”

“I call your name every time I finish your order,” Chase pointed out, raising an eyebrow as he wiped down the counter. 

“Yeah, but…” Jack trailed off, hesitating before continuing, “But you’ve never actually talked to me.”

“I did not find it necessary to do so until now.”

“Ignore him, darling,” Wuya advised with an eyeball. “Chase here is what we call a selective mute.”

“Meaning what exactly?” Chase huffed, crossing his arms.

“Meaning you only talk when you want to be a little shit.”

Chase couldn’t help but smirk.

“Why, Wuya,” He chuckled. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Oh, shove off, you wanker.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Chase,” Jack greeted with a nod. “Officially, I mean.”

“Likewise. Jack, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Jack Thomas Spicer.”

“Quite the name. What did your dad do to move you this far?”

“He’s CEO of SpicerTech.” 

"Your father is Michael Spicer?" 

Everyone knew that name. SpicerTech was a massive robotics company, intimidating in every sense of the word. Michael Spicer had his claws in almost every well- known brand in the world and had their support in return. 

“Yeah,” Jack wrinkled his nose in distaste, taking a sip from his straw. “He wanted to oversee his new Australian branch himself. So we left California. Now, what was it you said to me about lying?”

Shit. Chase had forgotten that’s why he’d broken his silence. But he wasn’t a man for pretending not to say something he had.

“I doubt the reason why you decided to stay in Melbourne was because you liked it here,” Chase said bluntly. “That being said, you are not entitled to tell us the reason why. But at least have the courtesy not to lie to our faces.”

Jack’s eyes were wide again as he gaped at Chase. Crimson and innocent.

“How old are you, Jack?”

“22.” 

Chase found the tense knot in his stomach unclenching in relief; admittedly, he’d been lusting after Jack for a while at this point and it would’ve sucked if he’d turned out to be a teenager. That first glance over a month ago had sparked interest. Maybe Chase was attracted to mystery. Maybe intelligence. Either way, he couldn’t help himself.

“Why?” Jack asked. Chase shrugged but smirked all the same.

“Curiosity.”

There was something in the way he said it that made Jack squirm a bit, flushing slightly. 

-oOo-

After his shift, long after Jack had left The Haven, Chase went by his favorite sushi place for a quick avocado and salmon roll. Then he headed for Flinders Street Station. He boarded the above-ground Metro, slipping on his sleek silver Skullcandy headphones. He rested his head against the window, watching the suburbs of Melbourne fly by. He disembarked after 20 minutes of so, walking the rest of the way home. 

Home for Chase was an older house with a garden in the back and lace trim on the porch. Icy crept up one corner, spreading out along the walls. Chase walked through the privacy fence gate, letting it latch behind him before unlocking the dark green door.

He hung up his keys on his hook beside two others. It seemed at least one of his roommates was home.

“Hey, Chase,” Dashi called over his shoulder as Chase stepped into the kitchen. He was cooking something, likely fried rice, a favorite in the household.

“Hey, Dashi. Fried rice?”

“Yup. Want some?”

“No thanks. I had sushi.” Chase opened the fridge. He retrieved a blue Powerade from his shelf in the door, uncapping it and taking a swig. “Is Guan down the street again?”

“Where else would he be?”

Guan, Chase’s second roommate and Dashi’s younger brother, was notorious for day-drinking, particularly at the bar down the street. Chase and Dashi would’ve been a bit concerned if not for the fact that he worked a graveyard shift as a security guard downtown. So Guan would likely be home around 2, sometimes completely sloshed, sometimes not, and ready to pass out until 10 PM. 

Because of that, Chase really only saw him when he didn’t have work. During those times, all three of them would go out for burgers, hot pot, curry, anything really. Needless to say, they were all decently close, Chase fitting comfortably into the scene like a third brother. 

Chase sighed, shutting the fridge door with his hip.

“Did that kid come in for coffee again?” Dashi asked slyly. Chase choked on his Powerade. 

“Pardon?” He coughed, wiping his mouth on his arm, cheeks reddening. 

“Thought so,” Dashi laughed. He ducked out of the way of Chase’s swipe, going back to his fried rice as Chase stomped up the stairs. 

As he ascended, he head a very distressed meow. He turned full-circle on the landing. With a sigh, he opened the bathroom door, an orange tabby cat streaking out and rubbing insistently against his legs, meowing.

“Dashi!” He yelled down the stairs. Dashi’s drawl answered him.

“Yeah?”

“Did you lock Pumpkin in the bathroom?!”

“Not me! Maybe it was Guan! You know she doesn’t like him!”

Chase huffed, bending down to stroke Pumpkin’s head. She pushed up against his palm, purring. It was true; she didn’t like Guan. Then again, the man was a bit more brash and loud than Chase and Dashi so he had a habit of startling a hiss out of the cat. 

Chase opened his bedroom door, Pumpkin bumping against his calf as she slinked past him. He dropped his messenger bag on the dresser, removing his headphones from around his neck before stripping down and switching on the free-standing fan. The soft buzzing filled the room as he crawled into bed. Collapsing against the gray and black plaid duna, he freed his hair from the tie. Pumpkin jumped up onto the bed, settling on his chest and purring. 

This was typical for them. He pet her absentmindedly, one arm behind his head as he reflected on the day. 

Jack was fascinating. What did Chase know about him? He was a 22 years old University student who was working towards a degree in Robotics. He skateboarded. Professionally or casually, he didn’t know. His dad was Michael Spicer, CEO of SpicerTech. He was an American. He liked chocolate. He wore black clothes. 

Chase wanted to see them on his bedroom floor. 

Chase dozed off to the sound of the breeze in the trees outside his window and the soft buzz of the fan, Pumpkin a warm, vibrating mass on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Through the dark, through the door  
> Through where no one's been before  
> But it feels like home..."


	2. The Singer and The Artist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy  
> They can say, they can say I've lost my mind..."

Jack was… Stressed. Chase could tell just by looking at him. There were dark shadows under those usually lively eyes and his nails were bitten down to the quick. He was pouring over a quantum mechanics textbook, tapping his pencil incessantly against his scribbled notes. He was shocked when Jack eventually fell asleep, straight-up crashing on his folded arms, face tucked into the crook of his elbow.

Chase frowned. Jack had never fallen asleep in The Haven before. It was disconcerting. He glanced at Wuya. She too was shooting him concerned glances. Twenty minutes, he decided. He’d allow Jack a twenty minute power nap before he went over there and asked him what had him so stressed.

Chase went about fixing another customer’s cappuccino, thinking. Maybe it was an exam. No, midterms wouldn’t be for another month or two… He called out a customer’s hazelnut latte.

Maybe it wasn’t even school. What if it were girl troubles? He really hoped not; if Jack was into girls, it would throw a hell of a wrench into Chase’s plans to attempt to seduce him. His mind twisted off on a tangent, eyes resting on Jack’s snoozing form. He imagined the miles of pale skin under all that black he wore, the bare thighs shaking, hands twisting in the sheets. 

He shook his head his head hard, going back to warming up a cranberry-orange muffin. If he wanted to fuck Jack Spicer anytime in the next century, he’d better start making a move. Making up his mind, he waited fifteen minutes before starting on a coffee. Wuya raised an eyebrow.

“Making something for yourself?”

“No, something for Jack. Put it on my tab.”

Wuya blinked in surprise before a slow smirk graced her lips.

“Finally making your move, eh?”

“I’m not going to remedy that with a response,” Chase snipped as he put an extra shot of espresso in the cup. He hoped Jack liked dark chocolate. He stirred the dark mocha with a cinnamon stick before fitting the lid on the top. 

Stepping around the side of the counter, he approached Jack who was still completely conked out. He cleared his throat. Jack jumped slightly, lifting his head off his arms and squinting blearily up at Chase.

“Chase?”

Oh, uh, wow. Jack’s voice was rough with sleep and Chase was immediately aroused. He prayed to every God he could think of in gratefulness that his heavy apron hid everything.

“You fell asleep.”

“Apparently… I just closed my eyes to think for a minutes.” He scratched his head, looking around. “What time is it?”

“You slept for twenty minutes.”

“Oh, okay… That’s not so bad, I guess.”

“Here,” Chase said, placing the coffee cup down in front of Jack. “It’s a dark cinnamon mocha.”

“I didn’t… Order this?” Jack said slowly, visibly confused.

“A customer paid it forward for someone who’d need it. You looked like you needed it.”

“Oh.”

Jack picked up the mug hesitantly, taking a tentative sip. His eyes lit up and he took a deeper sip. Chase wiped his palms on his apron; they were suddenly damp.

“Wow, this is really good. Thanks.”

“No worries. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s got you so knackered?”

“This stupid fucking concept we’re studying in Quantum Physics,” Jack groaned, rubbing his eyes with one, the coffee still in his other. “It makes me literally want to jump off a bridge. I don’t get it at all.”

“Hm. What’s the concept?”

“We’ve been looking over the philosophical implications of quantum mechanics, partially the Copenhagen interpretation,” Jack explained. “But it’s all Greek to me. I’m here for the math, not the philosophy! It sucks…”

Jack may has well have been speaking Greek for all Chase understood. He was not one for math. He had a more artistic and history based mind so mathematical concepts typically flew right over his head. He could pay the bills and keep a budget. As far as Chase was concerned, that was all he needed to know. Nonetheless, Jack needed help. 

He pulled out the chair across from Jack and took a seat, not seeing Wuya openly gaping at him from behind the counter. Jack also gawked. Chase waved a hand. 

“Go on,” He encouraged. “Keep talking. Tell me everything you know.”

Jack sat for a minute in silence, seemingly stunned. Then, after taking a deep gulp of coffee, he began to talk. Of course, Chase didn’t understand hardly anything of what he was saying but that was beside the point. The point was he knew Jack was smart enough to figure this out on his own. Jack loved to talk. Maybe if he talked for long enough, he would eventually come to a conclusion on his own.

And Chase was right. After several minutes of info-dumping, Jack paused. Then he frowned. 

“Huh. I think I get it.”

“See? You knew the answer all along.”

“Wait, what?” Jack shook his head in surprise. Chase stood from the table with a grin.

“You’re far too intelligent for your own good, Jack,” He said, chuckling. “But sometimes you stress too much. Breathe more. Enjoy your coffee.”

“Thank… You?”

Jack barely got it out, a blush high in his cheeks, before Chase walked away. 

-oOo-

At 8 PM on the dot, Chase left the house, shouting a goodbye to Dashi over his shoulder. He was dressed more casually this time around in gray joggers and a faded black tee. On top of that was an open green flannel then a denim jacket. His black high-top Converse completed the look. All in all, he fit in very well with the Melbourne night scene. No one would spare him a second glance and he was completely fine with that. 

He boarded the train back into the city, humming along to his music. The lights sped by. His knee bounced, partially from nerves, partially from excitement. When he disembarked, it was around 9. Walking quickly, he wound his way through the tiny laneways of the city, eventually coming to a staircase leading down under a street lamp. It illuminated a sign that read simple, “Persephone”. 

The club’s lights were dim. It was filled with wooden tables and chairs, the walls covered in record covers and cult movie posters. The bar was against the far wall, a stage against the right wall.

“Bring the sheet music?” 

“Hey, Kimiko.”

Kimiko was a petite Japanese girl with a long braid down her back. That evening she was in a black leather skater skirt with matching boots and a fuzzy blue sweater. She held out her hand for what she’d asked for, wiggling her fingers in impatience. Chase rolled his eyes, fishing around in his messenger bag and procuring the sheet music. She snatched it up, skimming it over. She grinned.

“Looks good, Chase. You ready to perform?”

“Well, I’m not here to fuck spiders.”

“Go prep, then. We go on at 10.”

At 10 PM, Chase stepped out onto the platform stage. The room wasn’t big but it also wasn’t small and it was at least half full. He was grateful he’d seemed to be born without stage fright.

Kimiko plugged in her bass, giving a few experimental strums. Omi, a gangly Chinese boy with a shaved head, made sure his keyboard was connected and adjusted the settings accordingly. Raimundo, a Brazilian boy, tapped his drumsticks against the snare a couple of time, blowing a strand of wavy brown hair out of his eyes. 

Chase looked over at the bar, ready for the signal to start from the bartender. Clay, the blond broad-shouldered Texan, gave him a grin and a thumbs-up. Chase switched on his microphone. There was slight feedback but not enough to make anyone wince.

“Thank you for coming out tonight. I am Chase and we are the Xiaolin Dragons.”

There was a polite spattering of applause. Chase waited patiently for it to die down before speaking again.

“This first number is titled Dive.”

He nodded to Kimiko. She nodded back, starting a gentle thrumming bass line. Raimundo twirled a drumstick lazily before initiating a slow and steady beat. 

Chase leaned into the microphone. His first note quieted the room; his voice was soft, rough around the edges, giving it a smoky quality.

“If I fell from the stars  
would you follow me down?  
Would you fix my broken crown?

If I show you my lies  
my heartbreaks and tears  
could you quiet all of my fears?”

Chase’s eyes drifted closed and he took a purifying breath. The stress of the week was melting away, draining out the lingering tension in his shoulders. This was it, his purpose, his everything. His voice rose for the bridge, Omi pressing out a rolling and repetitive electronic line.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way  
I’d rather die than watch you walk away…”

His voice crescendoed, Raimundo drumming out the chorus intro.

“And I would dive down  
Dive down with you  
And I drown  
Deep down in you  
And I lose myself in you…”

Chase swore his very soul was vibrating, trembling within his chest. Yes, he’d written many songs up until this point. But for some reason, Dive felt special, like the lyrics were imbedded in his heart. Usually he was detached from his music, playing something that maybe others could relate to. Not to him, never to him.

This time, however, he felt the lyrics. Behind his closed eyes, he could see red. And black. And white. A goofy half-smile and chewed nails. A heavy textbook and a mocha. When he closed out the song, his voice wavering on the last note with barely contained emotion, he knew. The room was applauding and whistling and hollering, and he knew.

Without meaning to, Chase had falling in love with Jack Spicer.

-oOo-

Chase was walking home from The Haven, the sunset turning the sky various hues of orange and pink, speckled with the remnants of clouds. Every once in a while, he’d pick up an afternoon shift and this had been one of those days. 

As he was wondering what he should grab for dinner, he heard a soft hissing sound. He paused, glancing off down a narrow alley. There, in the shadows, was a figure in a hoodie sketching on the side of the building with a can of spray paint. 

In any other city, this would’ve been cause for alarm. But in Melbourne? Graffiti may as well have been given the title of Official Art Form with how much of it covered the laneways. There were entire streets dedicated to it, areas where the activity was completely legal. 

However, it was still rare to actually see an artist at work. Chase hesitated. He didn’t have to be at the bar that night so there was really no hurry. He turned down the alley, curious to watch the hooded artist in action. He kept his distance; it was only him and the artist, and even thought Chase was perfectly capable of defending himself, he didn’t want to present himself as a threat. 

He stood quietly, watching the artist work. The man shook another can, spraying out a streak of lime green on the large gecko he was painting. It was an incredible piece, Chase reflected. The gecko had multicolored speckles across its back, a long curled tail, and skin that seemed to glisten with slime.

Visual art baffled Chase in a way he couldn’t quite explain. How a human being could make paint do such things was incredible to him, a skill he could really only dream of having. Being a performance artist himself, however, kept him from being bitter; he had talent. Just in a different form.

Probably the most striking thing about the gecko was the eyes. They were venomous yellow, streaked with gold, bulging with curved black slits for pupils. The gold shimmered so Chase figured the artist may have used a glitter paint of some sort.

“It’s gold leaf.”

Chase didn’t expect the artist to speak and nearly jumped out of his skin when he did so. He shook another can of paint and sprayed a bit of orange around the eyes’ edges. 

“It’s flakes of real gold that you apply to the painting with tweezers. Really delicate, a lot can go wrong if you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”

Chase knew that voice.

“Jack?”

The artist startled, dropping the spray can. It rolled away from him, stopping in the middle of the alley between them. He turned. Shocked red eyes met his from under the hood and Chase’s stomach did that weird flip-floppy thing, like a panicky rabbit. 

“Chase?” Jack squeaked, cheeks burning bright. “Wh-what are you-? I-! Um…!”

“It’s beautiful. I didn’t know you could paint.” 

“I…” Jack floundered for words as Chase waiting patiently. He fidgeted nervously, biting his lower lip. “I-It’s not that big of a deal. Just a hobby…”

“Is this why you stayed in Melbourne, Jack?”

Chase asked the question quietly but he may as well have screamed it. Jack flinched, looking away. Something shone in the corners of his eyes, something suspiciously like tears.

“Dad said no matter where I went, I should be in school for robotics,” He muttered, keeping his eyes down. “I-I had two choices: go home to mom, get my degree, work for the American branch. Or I could stay here and live with him, get my degree, and work for SpicerTech here. Run the Australian branch. That’s… That’s the plan, y’know?”

A hoarse laugh came out of Jack, a mirthless one. Then a sob. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Chase stepped forward, close to Jack’s front, putting a hand on the back of his head. He pulled him forward against his chest, wrapping his free arm across his shoulders. Jack grabbed at Chase’s shirt, crying into his shoulder desperately, as if a monster was clawing its way out of his throat. 

By the time they broke apart, the sun had set, casting the alley in dark shadows only barely illuminated by the buzzing yellow street lamp on the corner. Chase lifted Jack’s chin with a hand. Big tears spilled over the red rims of those expressive eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Something trembled in Chase’s chest, pressing inevitably against his ribcage. Unable to help himself, he dipped his head down, pressing his lips tenderly to each tear, catching every single one, prompting a soft gasp. Jack’s hands gripped his shirt tighter, shaking. All of Jack was shaking. 

Chase kissed him. 

His arm dropped to the small of Jack’s back, tugging him closer, as close as he could get him. He kept it short, breaking if off gently in case Jack didn’t want this. Oh God, he wished he wanted this. Please want this. 

Then Jack’s lips were pressed against his with a force so enthusiastic, they bumped noses. Both broke the kiss with small yelps of pain. Jack glanced up at Chase apologetically, smiling sheepishly, flushed in embarrassment. Chase huffed out a soft laugh, rubbing his nose slightly.

“Sorry…”

“Nah, you’re fine.”

“Can I try that again?”

“I would like that.”

Jack’s hands went up, burying themselves in Chase’s hair as he pulled his head down. His lips melded to Chase’s, drawing a soft groan. He settled his hands on Jack’s hips, gripping gently, deepening the kiss he’d waited for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I don't care, I don't care, so call me crazy  
> We can live in a world that we design..."


	3. The Bean and The Band

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "'Cause every night I lie in bed  
> The brightest colors fill my head  
> A million dreams are keeping me awake..."

Chase couldn’t help glancing over at Jack as he worked. What could he say? His… Boyfriend was very distracting. He flushed, ducking his head as he drizzled caramel over a macchiato. Yes, his boyfriend was distracting. How dare he look so tempting in those skinny jeans?

Jack was bent over a textbook, scribbling something in the margins. He startled when a cup was placed beside him. Looking up, he beamed to find Chase standing there. 

“Hot chocolate with marshmallows.”

“Thanks, Chase.” 

“How goes your studies?” He asked, taking a seat across from him. Jack sighed as he closed his textbook, holding the warm cup between his hands. Chase frowned. “That bad, huh?”

“I just… I want to get this semester over with. If I can graduate and start work…”

“A job will take up just as much time as school will, I’m sorry to say.”

Jack shrugged helplessly, taking a sip of hot chocolate. It warmed him down to his toes and he shot Chase a questioning look.

“This tastes… Different from usual.”

“I stirred it with a peppermint stick.”

Jack snorted, cracking a smile despite his gloomy mood. Chase smiled back.

“… Did you know working in a coffee shop wasn’t my first career choice?”

“Yeah?” Jack asked curiously, “What was your first choice?”

“I wanted to write my own music.”

“Wha- Really? That’s incredible! Why didn’t you?”

“Well…” Chase trailed off, chin against his palm. He gazed out the front window of The Haven, watching the rain make rivulets down the glass. Finally, he sighed.

“When I was very young, my mother and I lived in Shanghai. She worked for a big firm, Heylin Enterprises, as a secretary.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” Jack waved his hand, looking at Chase in shock. “Your mother worked for Hannibal Bean? The Hannibal Bean?”

“Oh, so you know who Bean is. Well, that makes things easier… I guess,” Chase scowled, a dark look crossing his eyes. “He married my mother. Took us in.”

“Your mother-?!”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

Jack gaped at him and Chase sighed, his eyes softening.

“After my mother’s death, my step-father decided to move his company headquarters to Melbourne. We immigrated here when I was 12.”

“Where is this going, Chase?” Jack asked slowly. Chase raised an eyebrow and he blushed, taking a deep sip of hot chocolate. 

“My step-father was dead set on me working for Heylin Enterprises. Eventually he would have me succeed him and run the business alone. While I could do it, it’s not what I wanted to do. My passions were elsewhere.”

“In music.”

“Yes. Hannibal Roy Bean never loved my mother. I doubt that man ever felt sincere love in his life. No, he married my mother because he needed an heir.”

Jack was at a loss for words. Chase was staring out the window at the rain and all he could do was gape. Eventually, he reached across the table, resting a hand on his forearm. Chase looked at him with those golden eyes he found so intoxicating, like whiskey on ice. 

“I guess we both have fathers who don’t know us very well.”

“Bean isn’t my father. He’s a monster.”

Chase unbuttoned his sleeve and pushed it up. He pushed it up past the elbow then laid it on the table, inner wrist pointed skyward. There, just below the crook of Chase’s elbow, was a round, sunken scar, deep red in color. Jack reached out, touching the skin close to it carefully with trembling fingers.

“It’s from one of his cigars. He gave it to me after I told him I wanted to go into music, not his company. I was 16.”

“Chase…”

“I spent the next two years preparing to move out, saving my allowance, stashing food… My friend Guan from school had an older brother, Dashi, who already had a place of his own with a spare room. On my 18th birthday, I moved out.”

Chase pulled his arms back, rolling down his sleeve again.

“How old are you, Jack?”

“22. You know that.”

“My point is you’re an adult. Move out.”

It was blunt and Chase knew it. Jack choked on his hot chocolate. He coughed into a napkin until he got his breath back.

“M-move out?” He gasped. “Then what?”

“Hear me out, Jack,” Chase explained, leaving forward. “You graduate this year. Apply for jobs in your field if you wish but you don’t have to. Move out. Maybe your paintings can’t make you the money you need but it doesn’t mean you have to stop doing it. But getting out of your father’s place will help you think more clearly without his influence.”

“Well, what about you?” Jack shot back. “What about your dream of writing music?”

Chase then presented the idea he’d been turning over in his head for weeks. He grinned.

“What’re you doing Friday night?”

-oOo-

Jack was standing on the steps of Flinders Street Station, waiting for Chase. He figured whatever they were about to do would count as a date but he wasn’t sure; he’d never exactly been on a date before. Not only that, there was an air of mystery surrounding the evening.

“Pack an overnight bag and tell your dad you’re cramming for an exam with a friend. It’s gonna be a late night so I doubt you’ll want to try to make it home at 2 AM.”

Jack had no idea what the fuck they were doing. Yet because Chase Young had said it, he had a packed duffle bag and a buzz of nervousness in his stomach. His devastatingly handsome Chinese boyfriend could tell him to walk backwards into hell wearing nothing but Crocs and he’d probably do it. 

“Oh good, you’re here.”

Jack turned and nearly choked on his own spit. Chase looked really different when he wasn’t dressed for work. His black jeans were ripped and hugged all the right places. He wore a gray hoodie with the AC/DC logo and a dark green and black open flannel over that. Top that all off with black high-tops and the man looked downright sinful.

Jack felt like a little gothic goblin next to him. Sure, his black skinny jeans, MCR zipper hoodie, and beanie looked cohesive with Chase’s theme but… Chase had this air of badassery Jack could never even hope to achieve. He really hoped he didn’t embarrass him. Jack knew with every fibre of his being that Chase was way out of his league. He was lucky. So lucky. 

Then Chase shot him a wide, rather goofy grin. Nervousness drained out of Jack, replacing the feeling with overwhelming fondness. He smiled back.

“Ready?” Chase asked him.

“Yeah, totally. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Come on.”

Electricity buzzed from hand to brain with Chase’s fingers linked with his own lazily, pulling him across the street when the crosswalk light changed. 

It didn’t take very long to get to Persephone. The moment they entered, Chase and Jack were swamped by four other people. 

“Chase, is this him?”

“Welcome to the club, dude!”

“You were right, Chase; he is most handsome!”

“Howdy, it’s nice to meet ya.”

Jack stepped back instinctively, pressing his back against Chase’s chest, anxiety skyrocketing. A strong hand rested on his waist.

“Take a step back, all of you; you’re insufferably overwhelming.”

The diverse group did so and Jack sighed in relief. He turned his head slightly.

“Thanks, babe.”

“No worries. This is my band. Kimi’s on bass, Omi on keyboard, Rai on drums. Clay’s the bartender and our personal promoter.”

Echoed ‘hello’s all around. Jack smiled nervously.

“Hi…” He squeaked out.

“Alright, you’ve seen him. Now buzz off, you vultures.”

The group dispersed, Rai and Kimi nudging each other in the sides and giggling. Omi inclined his head to Jack and Chase before heading to the stage to set up his keyboard. Clay smiled apologetically.

“Sorry ‘bout that, partner. We were all just excited to meet you.”

“Are you American?”

“Yes, sir, I am,” Clay puffed up with pride, thumbs in his blue jean belt loops. “Moved here ‘bout… Ooo, I’d say a couple of years ago? I man the bar and work the sound system for the Dragons.”

“Yeah, I’m American, too. Been here since I was 15 thought…” 

“Well, welcome to Persephone. Just go ahead and make yourself at home. First drink’s on me. Any friend of Chase’s is a friend of ours.”

Jack stuttered out a thank you as Clay walked away back to the bar. Chase stepped around him, grinning. 

“I need to go set up.”

“You have a band?” He blurted out. Chase’s grin turned a little apologetic. He brushed his long black hair back. 

“Yeah, I wanted tell you. But I also kind of wanted to surprise you.”

Jack snorted, shaking his head. Reaching out, he took a handful of Chase’s hoodie and pulled him in, laying a short but sweet kiss on him. Chase, for his part, flushed slightly. 

“Knock ‘em dead, tiger.”

Chase smirked, leaning back in for another kiss, one that made Jack’s head swim. 

“Ayyye, nice one, mate!” Raimundo whooped from the stage and Omi wolf-whistled. Chase broke off the kiss to flip them off as he headed backstage. Jack went off to find a seat. 

By the time Chase took to the stage with his band, Jack was halfway through his Screwdriver and giddy with excitement. He had to wonder what instrument Chase played. He was shocked when he realized Chase was the only one stage without an instrument. Was he going to sing?

Chase switched on the microphone and leaned in.

“Welcome to Persephone. I’m Chase and we are the Xiaolin Dragons.”

Polite applause.

“Our first number is new so I’ll ask if you could hold all ‘boo’s and tomatoes until the end of the song, much thanks.”

Rai drummed out a ‘ba-dum ts’ as chuckles circled the bar. Jack laughed quietly. Chase smirked.

“I’m proud of introduce Coffee Cup.”

Omi started off with a lone note on the keyboard that crescendoed softly before Kimiko came in, plucking out a melody on her acoustic guitar. Chase stepped forward.

“I never meant to see you quite this way  
You turn my head and light my rainy day  
But still I choke, I choke on what could be  
And still you stay  
Still you stay…”

Jack couldn’t help the soft gasp that that escaped him as all the air in his lunch expounded in shock.

“And so I pour another drink, I pour you out a drink  
My brain is half-asleep and I over think  
If I passed you yet another coffee cup  
Would you let me taste it  
Taste it on your tongue?”

Leaning forward on the table, Jack rested his cheek on his palm, unable to stop himself from gazing at Chase. His voice was unlike anything he’d ever heard before, sensual and raw with emotion. Everything Chase typically hid poured out with his voice.

“Stranger, you got me daytime dreaming  
Your coffee cup where my lips should be  
Stranger, what clouds your eyes today?  
I’ll clear them all away  
And pass you yet another coffee cup…”

Chase was looking at him, Jack realized with a jolt. Singing to him, those bewitching golden eyes on him. This song… It was for him. And him alone.

“Maybe today I’ll find it within me  
To draw my heart in Sharpie ink for you  
Maybe tonight I’ll let you hear my voice  
I’ll share the song I wrote for you  
And it’s all for you…”

Chase’s voice rose and chills trickled down Jack’s spine as he held his gaze.

The sound ended to applause, whooping, clapping. Chase stepped back from the microphone, eyes only for one person, for Jack. Jack gave him a starstruck smile, mouthing ‘wow’. Chase grinned back, pulling his hair up into a ponytail before speaking into the microphone again.

“This next one’s an older one but I think you’ll enjoy it. Here’s Ignite.”

He picked up an electric guitar as Kimiko traded in her acoustic for a bass and Jack sat up straighter. If Chase could sing like that, he was dying to see what he could do with a guitar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I think of what the world could be  
> A vision of the one I see  
> A million dreams is all it's gonna take  
> A million dreams for the world we're gonna make..."


	4. The Desire and The Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "However big, however small  
> Let me be part of it all  
> Share your dreams with me..."

Chase was physically unlocking his front door, Jack right beside him. Mentally he was somewhere 1000 miles straight up, floating right above cloud 9. Once off the stage in Persephone, Jack had rushed over to gush over his music, stroking Chase’s ego to bursting point. Everything up until this point meant nothing.

Jack liked his music. That was all he needed.

Now, hand in hand with Jack, he was hoping quite sincerely that Guan and Dashi didn’t embarrass the hell out of him. No such luck.

“You must be Jack Spicer! Chase, you were right; he’s sexy as hell!”

“Oh, my God…” Chase groaned as Dashi ran forward, apron and all to hug Jack. Wide-eyed in surprise, Jack hugged back and mouthed ‘sexy?’ over Dashi’s shoulder. Chase averted his eyes, blushing deeply. Then Guan arrived and everything got infinitely worse. 

“Yo, Chase, can I borrow-? Oh, shit! Is this your boyfriend? It’s about damn time we met him!” 

Jack took a step back, intimidated by Guan’s physique. Chase might’ve had muscles and abs but Guan was ripped. Jack was relieved when he only shook his hand as opposed to the bear hug he’d received from Dashi. Guan smirked at Chase.

“Tap that as soon as possible because if you don’t, I will.”

“Mm, agreed.”

“You creepy fuckers aren’t even gay!” Chase lamented, already mortified beyond belief as Jack spluttered, going red. “C’mon, Jack. My room’s upstairs.”

As soon as they’d left the kitchen, Dashi and Guan fist-bumped, grinning and snickering quietly.

“They’re adorable. Good for Chase,” Guan admitted to his brother.

“Mm. He better not hurt him.”

They shared a look. Because they meant it both ways. 

Up in Chase’s room, Jack was being harangued by a curious Pumpkin. He kneeled, hand out so the cat could sniff him. 

“You are so cute!” He cooed, both hands stroking the orange ears. “What’s his name?”

“Her name,” Chase corrected as he hung up his bag and hoodie, “is Pumpkin.”

“You named your cat Pumpkin?” Jack snorted.

“It’s all Dashi’s fault; I couldn’t think of a name and he started calling her Pumpkin. I tried to change it but… It stuck. So yeah, she’s Pumpkin. I’m sorry about my roomies, by the way,” Chase apologized with a pained expression. “They’re massive dicks.”

“Nah,” Jack laughed as he started to scratch under Pumpkin’s chin, who was absolutely adoring the attention if they loud purring was anything to go by. “No worries. It sounds like they just care a lot.” 

“Yeah, I guess…” Chase trailed off.

Suddenly he was very nervous. Jack had straightened and was currently circling the room, Pumpkin bumping against his legs as he walked. It was small but big enough for Chase, the walls with a couple of music posters and Chinese scrolls hanging on them. Chase rested his guitar on a stand by a couple of stacked bins. They were filled with vinyls, a dark green record player balanced on top of them.

“Holy shit!” Jack gushed, going over to it and browsing Chase’s music. “Dude, I’ve always wanted one of these. Do you mind if I…?”

“Go right ahead,” Chase urged him. Jack busied himself with picking an album. Eventually soft music was playing. 

“All-American Rejects’ Move Along,” Chase instantly and correctly guessed the album, tugging his shirt off over his head. “Good choice.”

Jack was too busy gawking to answer; Chase was mouth-watering.

“Do you mind if I sleep shirtless?”

“No, please do,” Jack’s voice cracked slightly and Chase smirked lightly. “What time is it anyway?”

“Almost 3. Luckily I don’t have to work tomorrow since it’s Saturday.”

“And dad won’t expect me home til tomorrow evening,” Jack sighed in relief as he deposited his duffle bag on Chase’s full-sized bed. “Why were your roomies even up?”

Chase groaned, flopping down on the bed. 

“I don’t even know and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit.” 

Jack shrugged and pulled his black sweats from the bag with a deep red tank top.

“Where’s your bathroom?”

“That door.” Chase sat up, indicating a door on the opposite side of the room and Jack nodded, taking his clothes and toiletry bag with him. “Going to shower?”

“Yup… Wanna join me?”

Chase turned his head so fast, his neck popped. Jack bit his lower lip, wide-eyed. 

“Just… Think about it.” And he disappeared into Chase’s bathroom. After a tense pause, Chase scrambled off the bed, following him.

He froze in the doorway, inhaling sharply at the sight before him. Jack was removing his make-up, his signature black eyeliner now nothing but light smudges under his eyes. It was the first time Chase had seen Jack without it and he shut the door behind him slowly.

“Chase? You okay?”

In response, he moved forward to kiss Jack for all his worth. He drew a gasp and he took the opportunity to deepen it. Hands splayed across Chase’s torso, exploring his bare skin hungrily. 

Chase broke the kiss, bending down to grab behind Jack’s legs, lifting the smaller man and setting him on the bathroom counter. Jack plunged his hands into his hair, pulling him back in. Chase occupied the space between his thighs, hands gripping his hips so tightly, surely they’d be bruised. 

They broke apart, gasping. Chase tugged Jack’s shirt off impatiently. His lips touched jaw, neck, shoulder, dragging his hot tongue across cool skin. A whine escaped Jack’s lips as he shivered, gripping Chase’s hair in fists. Teeth bit down on the tender flesh between Jack’s neck and shoulder, drawing a soft cry.

He wrapped his legs around Chase’s hips, pulling the man closer until they were pressed together. Jack’s hands slid down, shaking with want as he undid Chase’s jeans. A breathless chuckle met his ears. 

“Are you sure?”

“I- I don’t want to go all the way… Just want you closer.”

“I can do closer.”

Chase tapped his legs and Jack reluctantly let them fall. He was glad he did, however, when Chase slid his jeans down and off. He stepped forward to undo Jack’s own jeans and he lifted his hips, allowing them to be slipped off his hips and legs. Chase stepped back between his thighs and Jack gasped when they pressed together, arms automatically wrapping around Chase’s neck. Without all that fabric between them, he could feel Chase’s desire for him and judging by the shiver that ran through him, Chase could feel Jack, too. 

“You alright?” Chase asked, pressing his forehead against his, hands slipping under his thighs. Jack licked his lips nervously, nodding. 

“You just… You feel really good.” 

Chase peppered quick, soft kisses along Jack’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, the corner of his eye. Then he rolled his hips against Jack’s and the friction was delicious enough to make him groan.

The bathroom filled with their own breathing. Soft music and the occasional worried ‘mrow’ from Pumpkin filtered in, muffled by the door. The quiet gasps, moans, and mutterings eventually escalated, Jack attaching his mouth to Chase’s neck. Leaving a trail of small, purple bruises, he pulled groans from Chase, the rolling and thrusting speeding up. Chase’s nails ran down Jack’s back as he rested his forehead against his shoulder, breath becoming ragged. 

“Jack…” He breathed, voice rough. “I’m gonna…!”

“Me too…!”

And they did. Chase’s body was wracked with spasms as the heat in the pit of his stomach blossomed. He yelled hoarsely into Jack’s shoulder as the younger man also came undone, head thrown back as pleasure flashed up his spine. He cried out, a sanctifying sound to Chase’s ears. 

Panting. Shaking. Afterglow.

Chase’s hands slid up around Jack’s waist, pulling him into an embrace. He dragged his fingers gently across his upper back, pressing soft kisses to Jack’s shoulder. Jack nuzzled Chase’s neck blearily, humming, smiling.

“Now I definitely need a shower.”

Chase laughed quietly.

“Agreed.”

-oOo-

“Move in with me.” 

Jack startled, looking up from his textbook at Chase. He was standing in his typical uniform for The Haven, holding a coffee for Jack, possibly another mystery mix.

“Huh?”

Chase rolled his eyes, setting down the coffee and taking his customary seat across from Jack. He leaned on his arms.

“Move in with me,” He repeated.

Jack gaped at him, unable to form words for a full minute. He chose not to answer, instead sipping at his coffee. It was a hazelnut mocha. Chase raised an eyebrow.

“Well?”

“Chase, I…” Jack sighed, holding the cup so the warmth sank into his fingers. “I don’t know.”

“Is it that we’re both men? Is that what’s keeping you from telling your dad?”

Jack nodded. Tears prickled, hot and stinging in the corners of his eyes. He shrank into himself instinctively, leaning back in his seat as he held the cup to his chest like a shield.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not angry. I understand.”

“Y-you do…?”

“Of course, I do.” Chase shook his head in disbelief. “Jack, do you have any idea how terrified I’d be if Bean knew I was gay?”

“You? Scared?” Jack blinked, sitting up again. “I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”

Chase laughed, unable to help himself. Jack blushed.

“I get scared, Jack. Everyone’s scared of something. I’m no exception.”

They fell into silence as Jack sipped his coffee and Chase contemplated.

“If you want…” He suggested slowly, “We can tell your dad you’re moving into the fourth bedroom as opposed to moving in with me.”

“Wait, there’s a fourth room?”

Chase nodded. Jack mulled over that.

“Can I… Have some time to think over it?”

“Take all the time you need.”

Chase stood, leaning across the table to cup Jack’s face and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Take a break. Drink your coffee. You work so hard, Jack.”

“Thanks…” Jack said, breathless and blushing as Chase walked away. 

-oOo-

Chase’s heartbeat was a cacophonous thud in his ears. Breath coming in harsh pants, he limped down the street, his feet dragging but automatically taking him home. There was a sharp pain at his temple, throbbing…

He stepped across the threshold, stumbling into the kitchen. Dashi’s back was to him, washing dishes.

“This is an odd time for you to come home,” He commented, turning around as he dried his hands. “Usually you- Chase?!”

The side of Chase’s face was covered in blood, his hair matted with it. He looked up at Dashi with glazed eyes, one of them blackened.

“Dashi…”

His knees buckled.

“Guan!” Dashi roared, jumping forward to catch Chase as he fell. “Get in here!”

-oOo-

Chase was a very prompt person. Wherever he needed to be, he was there five minutes prior to the designated meeting time. In all the months Jack knew him, Chase had never once been late. 

That’s why he was alarmed when Wuya informed him that Chase had called in sick for the week. Not day. Week.

Immediately, Jack sent him several texts:

“You’re sick? You’ve never been sick before.”

“Is everything ok?”

“Are you ok?”

No answer. Jack’s anxiety shot up, squirming in his stomach. He turned on his toe, leaving The Haven. He had no classes, nowhere else to be for the day. His curfew was 9 PM and it was 10 AM.

Jack didn’t hear from Chase in the thirty minutes it took for him to get to his place. He knocked on the front door, tapping his foot nervously. The second knock got a response, the door opening. It was Dashi and he looked… Grim. His mouth was set in a hard line.

“Come on in, Jack. I was expecting you.”

“Where’s Chase?” He asked as soon as the door was closed. “Is he okay?”

“He’s in his room. You can see him. Just… It’s not good.”

Jack ran up the stairs, Dashi watching him go. When he entered Chase’s room, Guan was there, talking hushed tones with Chase blocking Jack’s view of him. Pumpkin leapt nimbly from bed to floor to greet him with a soft mew. 

“Chase!”

Guan moved, and a gasp ripped itself from inside Jack’s chest. 

Chase was sitting up in bed, but he didn’t look good by any means. A bandage was wrapped around his head, left eye black. His right arm was in a sling. Bruising mottled his jaw, his shoulder, his chest… The room blurred as tears filled Jack’s eyes before spilling down his cheeks.

“Who… Who hurt you?

Chase didn’t answer. Instead, he held out his hand. Guan stepped aside, leaving the room quietly. Jack sat on the edge of the bed, cradling Chase’s hand in-between his own as Pumpkin climbed into Jack’s lap, kneading and purring.

“Bean found out about Persephone.”

Jack inhaled shakily. Dread trickled into his chest.

“He did this to you?”

“He showed up at the club last night. Cornered me after the show. Demanded I return home and… Stop this nonsense.”

Chase laughed hoarsely, hollowly.

“He has eyes everywhere. If I show up at Persephone again, he won’t be so lenient.”

Chase fell silent, swallowing. His hand, trembling, tightened around Jack’s.

“I… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know w-what…”

He broke off, tears streaming down his face. He pulled his hand from Jack’s to cover his eyes. Quiet hoarse sobs broke Jack’s heart and he moved closer to Chase’s side, gently shifting Pumpkin off his lap. He wrapped his arms carefully around him so as not to aggravate his injuries, stroking his hair gently. He sniffled unable to stop crying himself, burying his face in the black tresses.

“I’ve got you, Chase…” He murmured, and he felt Chase nod jerkily. “W-we’ll figure this out, I-I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You may be right, you may be wrong  
> But say that you'll bring me along  
> To the world you see  
> To the world I close my eyes to see  
> I close my eyes to see..."


	5. The Bargain and The Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Every night I lie in bed  
> The brightest colors fill my head  
> A million dreams are keeping me awake..."

After Chase’s black eye faded and his dislocated shoulder healed, he went back to work at The Haven. But he was… Less enthusiastic. There was an honest lack, like a hole had been carved out of his chest with fire, leaving him feeling quite empty.

Wuya picked up on it quickly. She frowned in concern when he didn’t raise his hackles against her usual jabs. When Jack arrived at his usual time, she felt herself relax a bit. Surely, with him there…

And he was. Chase was better. 

Not fully. But better.

The sound of a coffee cup being placed in front of him made Jack look up. He smiled at Chase who smiled back, albeit weakly.

“Hey, babe. How’re you feeling?”

“Better. Still don’t know what to do.”

“I figured as much.”

Jack stood, startling Chase. This wasn’t typically how their meetings went. He circled the table, throwing his arms around Chase’s waist. Chase hugged back tightly, instinctively, pressing his face into Jack’s shoulder. He inhaled, breathing in the scent of almonds and cherries. It was soothing. His heart rate slowed down immensely and he found himself smiling against Jack’s hoodie. 

“Okay, ya big softie,” Jack teased lightly, finally leaning back. “Take a seat.”

As Chase did, a strange feeling washed over him. Strange but comforting. He wasn’t sure when and he wasn’t sure how. But as long as Jack was with him, Chase was sure things would turn out alright. Somehow. 

-oOo-

Jack took a deep, steadying breath. He let it out carefully, summoning all the courage he possessed. Raising a hand, he knocked on the study door.

“Come in.”

The voice was deep and Jack was instantly afraid. But he knew from Chase that he could choose his fear to fuel action. He entered the study.

The large chestnut desk was imposing but acted as a barrier between Jack and his father. Michael Spicer was broad-shouldered with dark hair and blue eyes. Jack had inherited much of his build from his mother but his facial features came from Michael.

“Hey, dad.”

“What do you need, son?”

It’d been years since Michael struck his son but the memories hadn’t faded. Jack remembered the events leading up to moving to Melbourne sharply. After years of drinking and violence, his mom had finally divorced Michael. He’d been allowed to keep Jack but only under the premise of counseling and anger management courses. After a year, they’d gone to Melbourne for a fresh start.

Yet the pressure and the expectations still hung heavy over Jack. And it was those expectations that he was incredibly grateful for in that moment.

“I’d like to present a business deal to you. Not as a son but as heir to SpicerTech’s Australian branch.”

“… Proceed.” 

“What kind of companies have stocks in SpicerTech? Do we keep tabs on them?”

Michael straightened, opening up a desk drawer and pulling out a file. He placed it on the desk before interlacing his fingers.

“SpicerTech has drawn many eyes in the business work. This is not only because of the high profits of selling goods but from the connections it has with the other big-name companies. Networking is vital to the survival of a company. That being said, SpicerTech has connections by investing in a small percentage of stock in other businesses. For example, we have 5% in Nike stock, 15% in Apple, and 10% in Sony. In return, these companies invest in a percentage of our stocks. Understand?”

Jack nodded. Now for the question he needed an answer to.

“What if, for personal and business reasons, you needed to make a big name business disappear?”

He asked slowly, hesitantly. This was dangerous territory. But to his immense surprise, Michael merely smirked.

“Who did you have in mind?”

“Heylin Enterprises, sir.”

Michael blinked. Then he reached into the desk drawer again and pulled out a very large file, letting it fall onto the surface with a thud.

“You eliminate their stocks. If companies no longer invest in the business, then the value of their products plummet. This will force a downsize.”

“What if you wanted to shut down a branch in a specific location?”

“Now you’re thinking like a CEO.” Jack couldn’t help but flush in pride as his father nodded his approval. “What is your proposal?”

“I will step into the position you want me to accept effective immediately after graduation. In return, you will help me shut down the Australian branch of Heylin Enterprises.”

“I was under the impression that you would work for SpicerTech regardless.”

“Well,” Jack spoke delicately but kept his back straight. “There are lots of companies needing experts in robotics, especially here in Melbourne. I have options and quite frankly, I don’t like the competition Heylin Enterprises presents.”

Michael scrutinized Jack over his fingers, dark eyes sizing him up. Then he nodded slowly.

“You will have your answer within the week.”

-oOo-

“Hey, Chase? Do you mind if I change the channel?”

It was a slow day at The Haven. Wuya was out on vacation and it was far too hot to actually go anywhere. The coffee shop was dead empty. So Jack was keeping Chase company at work, sipping an iced mocha with a book in front of him. Not a textbook; he’d finished his exams and was enjoying his summer.

“Hm?” Chase looked up from his phone at Jack. “Sure, here.”

He slid the remote across the counter. Jack smiled and pointed it at the small TV mounted on the wall behind the counter. Then he turned it up.

Chase was twirling as white coffee mug between his fingers lazily when a news reporter’s voice cut through his thoughts…

“-from the business world. Big names like Fung and WaterWay are up thousands of dollars in stock. New report in: Heylin Enterprise’s stocks have plummeted. We have Michael K. Spicer here to discuss the logistics of this startling change.”

“Thank you, Mr. Konocho. Such stock losses are sure to dramatically damage Hannibal Bean’s company. I will be meeting with Mr. Bean personally to help him relocate his company back to China where the stock will be far more-!”

The coffee mug shattered as it hit the floor. Chase didn’t look at it, didn’t move to clean it up, his fingers having gone slack. He didn’t dare move. He almost forgot to breathe. 

Surely, he’d misheard. No one was that lucky. Chase certainly wasn’t.

“Chase? Babe, you okay?”

Jack was standing in front of him, concern etched on his face. It was when he cupped Chase’s face that Chase realized he was crying. Twice in the same month. That had to be a record.

“I…”

He was shaking.

“How?”

A slow grin graced Jack’s face. Smugness radiated from him. He wiped away some of Chase’s tears but they just kept coming. 

“You’re looking at the new head of SpicerTech’s Australian branch.”

Chase went numb.

“Y-you… But… But Jack, wh-what about your dreams? You gave all that up…?”

“Just because I decided to seize the opportunity I had doesn’t mean I have to give up painting. A very smart guy- pretty sure his name was Chase- taught me that.”

That drew a rather wet laugh from Chase and Jack’s grin widened.

“Besides, my dreams don’t include you being unable to do what you love. I want to see you happy. I had the power to make it happen. So why wouldn’t I?”

“You did that… For me?”

Something in Chase’s voice broke and Jack stood on his tiptoes to press his forehead to his.

“You tell me my dreams are valid when no one else does,” He murmured. “You write and sing songs made just for me. You don’t try to push or pull me in a direction for your own benefit. This thing I did? It’s not enough. Dammit, Chase, I’d give you the whole fucking world if I could!”

Chase rested his shaking hands on Jack’s hips. His voice shook just as badly when he spoke next.

“You know I love you, right?”

Jack’s eyes opened and he found himself starting drowning in gold, his heart twanging like a rubber band.

“You…?”

Now Jack was crying. Chase hushed him quietly, wrapping him up in a hug, carding fingers through his hair. Jack hiccuped softly into Chase’s shoulder, gripping the back of his shirt.

“Yes, I love you,” He said again. “You and all your quirks and paint and robots and mochas.”

“I have a confession to make.”

Chase pulled back, searching Jack’s face in concern.

“What is it?”

Jack laughed weakly.

“I hate coffee.”

Chase blinked in utter shock.

“But you drank every coffee I made you!”

“Uh, yeah, because you made it, dummy!” Jack admitted, blushing sheepishly. Chase couldn’t help himself. He laughed loud and long. Jack giggled. When he finally calmed, Chase smirked.

“I hate coffee, too.”

“No shit? But I- You-!”

They dissolved into laughter once again. They cackled until their sides ached, leaning on each other for support. 

“Oh, man…” Chase sighed finally, chest heaving. “I feel better.”

“I love you, too, by the way.”

“I know. Your actions tell me that.”

Jack smiled warmly, kissing Chase on the cheek, eliciting a blush. Everything had gone according to plan. Chase was going to be okay.

-oOo-

“You are sure this is what you want?”

Michael Spicer was parked outside of a house with lace trim and ivy growing one it. It… Looked nice enough. Older but vintage in a traditionally Aussie kind of way. His son was sitting in the passenger seat and he frowned in disapproval; he didn’t much like the bright red dye in his hair but Michael had learned to pick his battles.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You didn’t have to drive me.”

“I know,” Michael admitted, one hand on the wheel. “But I wanted to.”

“Thanks, dad.”

Jack opened the door and climbed out, walking around the side of the car to open the t. Michael puffed out a sigh and followed.

As they were retrieving Jack’s trunk and suitcase, the front door opened. Jack looked up and grinned to see Chase coming out to meet them. He was dressed differently, Jack noted. More what he’d wear to work than his usual grungy look.

“Mr. Spicer?”

“Ah, you must be Chase,” Michael greeted, accepting Chase’s handshake. “Jack’s told me much. I appreciate you providing a room for him.”

“Private apartments are hard to come by,” Chase provided. “It’s the least I could do.”

Jack grinned. This interaction was going over a lot better than he’d expected. Then again, Michael didn’t know Chase was his boyfriend.

“Here, I’ve got this.” 

Chase lifted the trunk with ease and Jack almost drooled a little at the way his biceps stretched the fabric of his shirt. 

“Come on in. Pretty sure Dashi’s just put on a spot of tea.”

They entered through the gate then into the house, Chase with the trunk, Michael with the suitcase, and Jack with his duffle bag. He’d seriously downsized on his possessions, wanting to start fresh.

Dashi was inside waiting for them. Indeed, he’d prepared an afternoon tea complete with scones, clotted cream, and jams.

As they ate around the round oak table in the kitchen, Dashi and Michael discussed the business world. Jack shot a questioning look at Chase who rolled his eyes with a shrug. Jack stirred cream and sugar into his tea and took a sip, still slightly on edge about the fact that his father and his boyfriend were sitting in the same room.

Luckily, the tea didn’t last very long.

“I’d best be going. I have a dinner meeting at 6.”

“It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Spicer,” Dashi said, standing and shaking his hand. Chase did the same. Michael looked to his son.

“If you have any trouble at all…”

“I’ll call,” Jack huffed slightly, only just managing to not roll his eyes. “I know, dad.”

Michael nodded. 

“Alright. Mr. Wong, Mr. Young, it’s been a pleasure. Thank you for the tea.”

The moment the front door closed, everyone sighed a breath of relief. Jack pressed his forehead against Chase’s arm with a groan. Chase laughed.

“You were nervous?”

“Fuck yeah, I was nervous.”

“Well, come on. Let’s get you all unpacked.”

Jack’s room was at the end of the hall across from the bathroom he’d be sharing with Chase. Neither of them minded much; Chase took his showers in the evenings, Jack in the mornings.

“I prefer to wash the day off me and feel clean when I go to bed.”

“If I don’t shower in the morning, I won’t be fully awake. I’ll be a zombie all freaking day.”

The room itself was on the corner of the house so Jack had windows perpendicular to each other. The full-sized mattress and boxspring was shoved in the corner, a set of Chase’s sheets already on it along with a quilt Jack’s late grandmother had given him before he moved to Melbourne. A desk and chair set was shoved under the window opposite the door. The dresser was against the same wall as the door, a little worn but still usable. The closet occupied the remaining wall behind two accordion doors.

Jack opened his trunk, pulling out a small box of metal bits and doodads with a fond smile. He placed it on the desk before opening the window.

“I know it’s not much…”

Jack turned to beam at Chase, who was leaning against the doorframe.

“No, it’s perfect. I’ll just run by the shops and get a couple of things.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Chase asked, entering the room.

“Curtains, my own set of sheets, maybe some Command Hooks… Do you think Dashi would mind if I put up posters?”

“Not at all,” Chase reassured him. “I have posters in my room.”

“Oh yeah, true.”

Chase reached into Jack’s trunk and pulled out a toolbox by the handle. He looked at it curiously before glancing back down into the trunk.

“What is all this?”

“Remains of my robotics projects from Uni. It’s easy to get emotionally attached to your own creations so I kept bits and pieces from a lot of them. Now that I’m done with school, I’ll actually have time to freestyle a bit more.”

“I remember you telling me about these,” Chase said, awe creeping into his tone as he pulled a pair of gloves from the trunk. They were gray mesh with a honeycomb pattern of red covering each fingertip. “MedGloves, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. They’ve still got some snags I need to work out but… For the most part, they work.”

Chase pulled them on then pressed his index finger against Jack’s forehead. An automated voice sounded from Jack’s SmartWatch.

“Temperature: 98.3 degrees. Brainwaves: Normal. Overall condition: Functional.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.”

“They’re gonna help a lot of people if I can push the patent through the company,” Jack said, taking Chase’s gloved hand in his own.

“Temperature: 98.9 degrees. Heart rate: Elevated. Overall condition: Aroused.” 

“Motherfucker!” Jack cursed, pulling his hand out of Chase’s, face bright red. Chase laughed loudly as Jack scowled.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“Awww, don’t be mad, babe…” Chase wheedled, removing the gloves and replacing them in the trunk, still laughing.

“I can’t believe it,” Jack pouted, embarrassed. “Ratted out by my own invention. Absolute bullshit.”

“Maybe,” Chase hummed, looping his arms around Jack’s waist from behind. “But luckily, we can remedy your current medical state if you’d like.”

His voice was a purr in Jack’s ear and he shivered.

“Yeah?” Jack muttered, running his fingers over Chase’s arms as the man pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He took on a more playful tone. “What’ll you do to me, doctor?”

“Mmm…” Chase hummed against his skin and Jack felt the corners of his lips turn up. “I have options. One more tempting than the others just to see your face.”

“A-and what would th… That one be?” Jack stuttered out as teeth scraped lightly against his neck. A soft chuckle. 

“Turn around.” 

He did so. Gripping Jack’s chin, he pressed a firm kiss to his lips before pulling back and smirking. Jack tilted his head in confusion. The feeling only increased as Chase kneeled in front of him, pushing Jack’s tank top up with a hand. He kissed and licked his way across Jack’s stomach causing him to moan softly, petting Chase’s hair.

It was when he undid his jeans that Jack got the idea. His eyes widened. Chase paused, hands resting on Jack’s hips as he looked up at him. Molten gold seared into him and his heart skipped a beat.

“Only if you want to.”

Jack wasn’t about to tell him no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I think of what the world could be  
> A vision of the one I see  
> A million dreams is all it's gonna take  
> A million dreams for the world we're gonna make..."


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "For the world we're gonna make..."

Jack’s room in Dashi’s house quickly became his own. Pretty soon the walls were covered in pop culture posters, robotics blueprints, and concepts for paintings. The bed was done up in reds and black and, thanks to Jack’s lack of impulse control, a ton of different geeky throw pillows. On the corner of his dresser was a black record player, a gift from Chase. The stack of vinyls beside it was small but growing, featuring favorites like Panic! At the Disco, Avicii, and Alan Walker.

Since Jack had taken over as head of the Australian branch of SpicerTech, he worked from 8 to 5 every weekday. He was constantly meeting with other companies, organizing shipments, pitching ideas for and leading teams in the creation of new technologies. He usually arrived home around 5:30 PM, looking worn but satisfied. As it turned out, he really liked the job.

A new routine settled in gently. Every Friday and Saturday night, when Chase performed at Persephone, Jack was there. When Jack went out to paint, Chase went with him. They always ate dinner together, sometimes meeting in downtown Melbourne, sometimes with Guan and Dashi, sometimes with the Xiaolin Dragons, sometimes even with Wuya. As it turned out, being a bitch just translated into caring a lot. 

Hannibal Roy Bean had lost a lot of credit when his stocks plummeted, land-locking his company in China. After years of dirty dealings and sketchy circumstances, it finally caught up with him and he was found dead in his Shanghai office. Research proved it to be the result of poison, a rather peculiar strain called Lao Mang Lone. It turned the skin mottled green and patchy, making it look remarkably like scales, before slowly crushing the heart. It was an awful way to go. The world suspected PandaBubba, a well-known crime boss from Hong Kong.

Chase spent a week locked up in his room after Bean was found, curled up in bed with noise-cancelling headphones on and curtains closed. Jack wished he could say he understood.

“Give him time, Jack,” Dashi soothed as Jack paced outside Chase’s door. Guan was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking grim.

“I just don’t get it,” Jack persisted. “If Bean was such an asshole, why is he upset? It doesn’t make any sense…”

“It’s really none of your fucking business,” Guan finally snapped irritably. That earned a smack upside the head from his older brother. He winced and rubbed the spot.

“Let me try to explain this,” Dashi sighed. “Yes, Hannibal Roy Bean was a horrible person and an even worse father. But he’s still been Chase’s only living relative for over a decade now. Furthermore, for some God-forsaken reason, his mother loved Bean. If that doesn’t call for some emotional confusion, I don’t know what will.”

“He didn’t deserve Chase as a son,” Guan muttered angrily before thumping his fist back against the wall. He pushed off and went to his room, slamming the door behind him. 

Jack finally ceased his pacing. He took a deep, steadying breath, something Chase had taught him to do. He looked at Dashi.

“I… Think I understand. But he still shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Jack pushed open the door and entered Chase’s room, closing the door quietly behind him. The corner of Dashi’s lips lifted slightly and he walked away, shaking his head. He had a younger brother to calm down who he’d known had burst into tears behind the slammed door.

His phone was visible on the bed, the attached headphones cord disappearing under the duna where Chase’s form was curled up. Jack approached and lifted a corner, slipping under the covers with him. He drew close to Chase, wrapping him up in his arms. Golden eyes, duller than normal, met his before closing again. He wasn’t pushed away. Instead, Chase buried his face in Jack’s shirt, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.

Dashi was right. Chase eventually rejoined the world again, apologizing for his upheaval. But it stuck with Jack. After that day, he made a solid effort to stay in contact with his own parents. He and Michael Spicer emailed back and forth, talking about business but also just talking in general. 

The next time Michael visited Melbourne, Jack and Chase met him for lunch and told him the truth. He’d looked between them, brow furrowed, taken aback. Jack gripped Chase’s hand under the table tightly. Chase squeezed back assuredly and suddenly, Jack realized he wasn’t afraid anymore. He just wanted his father to love him still.

“Are you happy?”

Jack nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Michael sighed, face weary but resigned. He took a deep sip of wine before speaking.

“Jack, I know I haven’t always been a good father to you. I have no excuse for what I’ve put you and your mother through, and I’ve done everything I can to make up for it since then. If being with Chase makes you happy, then good. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me sooner.”

Safe to say, Jack’s relationship with his father was significantly stronger from that day onward. Thanks to Michael, SpicerTech managed to launch a music branch that produced it’s own listening devices, stereos, and headphones. Eventually, through combined efforts and a little publicity thanks to SpicerTech, the Xiaolin Dragons managed to record their first digital album. They release it across several platforms under the title A Million Dreams.

Somewhere along the way, Chase and Jack lost their morning coffees at The Haven. They’d traded those coffee cups for other moments. Like ice cream straight form the pint at midnight. Sharing early sketches and tentative melodies. Testing out new technologies.

Waking up together were Jack’s favorite moments. Sometimes they’d be in Chase’s room, sometimes in Jack’s. His head resting on Chase’s bicep, the arm that so often draped across his waist would pull him closer, closer, closer. Sleepy murmurs, soft kisses, dozing off once again.

Life carried on in that house covered in ivy in Melbourne. But sometimes, on a Sunday, Chase and Jack would get on the train with no real destination in mind, holding each others hands tightly. They’d pick a stop and find a cafe. Have lunch and quiet conversation over tea. 

Because, of course, neither of them liked coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your warm feedback. This story truly holds a special place in my heart. 
> 
> Before I let you all go about your day, I feel the need to discuss the radical representations of different fathers. First, you have Hannibal Bean, who has no desire to change and uses intimidation and violence against his adopted son to get what he wants. Then you have Michael Spicer, who has made mistakes in the past, has paid dearly for them, and is now trying to reconcile them.
> 
> In the fanfiction world, it's not very often we see a parent who was abusive who made an actual effort to change. However, I've seen this in real life, among my friends even. My goal for Jack's dad was to show a father who really is just trying his best. He may not necessarily approve of Jack's choices nor may he be very good at showing Jack he cares, but he tries. And after all, isn't that what being a parent is all about?
> 
> Once again, thank you for all your support. Stay tuned; more stories to come.
> 
> -P3ac3fulFor3st

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned; I'll be posting a chapter a day so the whole fic will be complete by March.


End file.
